


Maker, Preserve Me

by RaernS



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaernS/pseuds/RaernS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previously posted on Tumblr. Written from Cullen's point of view and with gender neutral pronouns so the Inquisitor can be either gender. Oneshot.</p>
<p>What if everything Cullen fears came to pass?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maker, Preserve Me

As the guardsmen on the walls heralded the return of the Inquisitor’s party, I couldn’t help but feel my heartbeat faster. I had known, after the group departed, Skyhold had to be ready for one of two outcomes: the feast of an age, or the last stand of the Inquisition. Now that the party returned, I knew we could rest easy. There’s no way my love, or their companions would make it home alive if not for Corypheus’ death. As soon as I heard the calls, I rushed from my office, towards the keep to alert Josephine…or, in actuality, to meet with Josephine and Leliana, since I was sure the spymaster has already heard of the success of the mission.

 

We gathered, us three advisors, on the same platform where our Inquisitor was proclaimed in order to welcome the heroes home. Varric was the first one to enter the courtyard, his crossbow strapped on his back, charred, but otherwise intact. I never much cared for the rogue, trusting in Seeker Pendaghast’s judgement, judgement that I was more than willing to accept, especially after that dammed card game. Speaking of the Seeker, she followed in after Varric, her face forlorn. Then again, with her, I can never tell if she’s angry, happy, or just her regular self. Her armor had a few scorch marks, but nothing I haven’t seen before.

After followed Dorian and Cole, both rather… deflated, considering. Dorian had a few rips in his robes, and Cole’s token hat had a hole through the top of it that I could see the light of the torches through. Still, both walked of their own accord, so their injuries, if they suffered any, couldn’t be too serious. It struck me as odd that my love would be so far back in the marching order, considering everyone, save maybe Sera, acknowledged the Inquisitor as the forefront of the Inquisition, including those that ventured out on missions with them. I felt my heart tighten in my chest as thoughts stirred in the back of my mind. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Of course that didn’t happen. The Inquisitor was just lagging behind to make sure the others were alright.

Sera, Vivviene, and Blackwall all came through and with each one, my heart drew higher in my throat and my breathing became harder and more belabored. Leliana even glanced my way, her eyes seeming to try to comfort and reassure me. But it wasn’t until I saw Iron Bull, the great, hulking Qunari, walk through the gates that my heart withered within my chest. In his arms, cradled as if a babe, was my love. Crumpled, burned, cloth ripped, metal charred, as destroyed as the Inquisitor’s trappings were, my love still looked as if they were slumbering, not a week before, as I laid beside them in their chamber, unable to sleep myself.

Cassandra had climbed the steps to the landing at that point. I met her gaze, only momentarily. She must have seen betrayal in my eyes, or maybe the leagues of pain that swelled up to drown me. In that moment, I wanted nothing but to fall, lose my mind, my memories, everything and anything to hide from the pain I felt. The Seeker came up to me, and hugged me, but her embrace was not the comfort I needed; it was not the embrace of my love.

“I am so sorry, Commander Cullen,” she spoke through the embrace, but her words fell on deadened ears, as did her speech to the inhabitants of Skyhold, which she gave after she had pulled away from me. I remained stoic, but I could not keep my eyes from Iron Bull, and my love in his arms. By the end of Cassandra’s speech, not a long one by any measure but my own, I was shaking. It was a bitter miracle I made it back to my chambers without anyone stopping me. I knew everyone in the keep, and in fact, much of Thedas, knew of the Inquisitor’s and my involvement.

I admit, I cried. I hadn’t cried in years… decades. But then again, I hadn’t cared this much for another soul since before I joined the Templars. Love isn’t something you have room for when you’re guarding mages, or fighting abominations. I never imagined I’d find the time whilst commanding the Inquisition’s forces. But I had. And now… now that our final battle was over, at least the Thedas-threatening one, I was left alone, drowning in my own misery. It was times like these that I envied the Tranquil. No responsibility, no emotion, no dreams. No love, sure, but no pain.

Ever since the Inquisitor visited me when my self-control was faltering, and encouraged me to give up Lyrium, I hadn’t considered the stuff. I hadn’t needed to, for if my love had faith in me to do something, then I knew it was within me to do it. Maybe that’s why the Inquisition’s forces flocked to them. The Inquisitor had the ability to bring out the very best in people, all of the people. Even Sera gained a moral compass in their presence. But now… I could not deny that I wanted Lyrium to take my mind. I recant my earlier claim, that it wasn’t a blessing. To be able to lose this pain… Maker, I’d pay the price.

“Cullen?” Leliana’s silent appearance didn’t startle me; I anticipated her, and probably Josephine as well, to offer condolences. I didn’t want them.

“What?” I responded harshly, like a cornered badger, lashing out in pain.

Leliana paused as I turned to face her. Her face distorted strangely, as if I had become some sort of monster. Maybe I had. Is this what mages feel when a demon takes over their body? Empty? Distant? If so, then I felt no guilt for slaying them, for no man or woman would wish to live in this shell. I half-heartedly prayed that Leliana would end my suffering now with an arrow through the breast.

“Cullen, I know no one took the Inquisitor’s death worse than you…” I scoffed, retreating under an angry shield. It was all I knew. I turned again, looking out the window of my office, at the mountains and ice, a sight that I once thought beautiful, but now, I could no longer see it’s charm. Leliana sighed quietly. “We’re going to have the funeral pyre tonight… but… the Inquisitor is resting in the Chantry, for those that want to say their farewells.”

I winced at the finality of that statement, but I nodded, though I assumed that Leliana didn’t wait for a response to leave. Part of me wanted to avoid any evidence of my love’s passing, wanted to continue the charade with myself that they were just on a long holiday, and would return at some point. But I knew better. I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn’t go to say my goodbyes.

Mother Giselle was the only one in the Chantry when I arrived. When she saw me enter, she bowed her head in acknowledgement to me, and took her leave, off to where-ever she went when not in the Chantry. At the foot of the alter, laid on a pew, was the Inquisitor, out of armor and clothed in that hideous outfit they took a liking to wear around Skyhold. “I never told you, of course,” I whispered as I approached, afraid that if I spoke outright, my voice would break and I would be reduced to tears. I ran my fingers along the fabric, the flesh beneath cold and limp. “The color never suited you,” I choked out, a mirthless laugh escaping from my lips.

I recalled when I first saw them wandering around Skyhold wearing it, surprised the outfit had survived Haven. I had wanted to stress to them how armor would have been safer, but they had stopped me in my lecture. _“If the people see me wandering about in full battle-gear, they’ll never believe that Skyhold is safe. But if I’m wearing pajamas, what else could they think? If the Inquisitor feels safe, then it must be so.”_

"I wanted to tell you that your safety was worth more than what they thought,” I said, looking into my love’s emotionless, dead face. “Everything is unimportant if you’re not safe.” I reached out for their hand, gripping the fingers tightly. “Maker’s Breath… I never should have let you go face him… I wanted to believe that you would be safe… that you would come back to me. And you didn’t.” I felt the tears start to well out of my eyes. I blinked out and could barely feel them roll down my cheeks.

“_______, I can’t do this all without you.” I held the hand up to my mouth as I kneeled beside the prone form, and I kissed the fingers. “I.. can’t.” I squeezed the fingers tightly. “_______, you brought out the best of me, the determination to break my leash to the Templars… but without you… I don’t know what to do.” I stared insistingly at their face, as if they would open their eyes and point a stare my direction, one of those encouraging smiles, or even a sarcastic remark of how I give in too easily…anything at all.

I stayed there a long time, unmoving. I don’t know how long, but I know I heard some people enter the Chantry, but none approached the altar, instead opting to pay their respects in the back so as to not disturb me. The entire time, I replayed every pleasant moment I spent with the Inquisitor in my head, trying hard to remember their smile, their laugh, the particular color of their inner iris. I didn’t move until I was startled by a hand on my shoulder.

“It is time,” Cassandra said to me, her hand patting through the fur covering my armor. I wanted to beg her for more time, or for her to let me climb onto the pyre along with them, but instead I meekly nodded and stood with her aid. I couldn’t tell if my legs were wobbly because of my emotions, or because of how long I had kneeled beside her.

Iron Bull approached to pick the Inquisitor up again. I stopped him by a hand on his forearm, and he looked at me. “Don’t worry. I’ve got the Boss,” he grunted, a hint of emotion behind his gruff demeanor. I found it slightly comforting that even he had difficulty masking his grief.

I followed after Cassandra and Iron Bull in a daze to the main courtyard, where a pyre had already been built. Leliana and Josephine, as well as the other companions, were already waiting for us. The Bull placed my love atop the logs as Cassandra guided me to stand to the left of Mother Giselle. It only briefly crossed my mind that I stood in the place of a formal spouse, even though the Inquisitor and I had never taken vows to one another.

“Today,” Mother Giselle began, speaking loud enough that all gathered, including those in the courtyard below, could hear her, “we gather in both joy and sorrow. Joy that a great evil has been vanquished, and sorrow that the Maker’s agent fell in the battle.” Her words stirred something within me, deeper than I had felt yet that day, and my tears began to stream silently down the sides of my face as she continued. I didn’t try to hide them, for what was the point? All had been lost in my world, so there was hardly any point for me to keep up appearances.

“And so as we commit the body to cleansing fire, so too do we commit the soul to the Maker’s side.” As the words were spoken, Leliana, who had been holding a lit torch, brought the flame up to the pyre. The dry kindling ignited as if a fireball had been fired from a Mage’s staff, and soon I could make out the scent of burning flesh on the air. “Join me in the Canticle of Trials, 1:14,” Mother Giselle guided, and while the words slid from my tongue, they left a bitter taste.

“Though all before me is shadow,

Yet shall the Maker be my guide.

I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light

And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

The same words I had spoken just a few days prior when the Inquisitor stumbled upon me in the Chantry, before they had left for their final battle. Had I known I would be saying them again in this context, I never would have let them go that day.

As the pyre continued to burn, companions shared stories quietly as drinks were passed around in the courtyard below. Eventually, people started to depart, either heading to the tavern to drink it away, or to their private chambers, to suffer in private. As dawn started to grip the eastern horizon, and the pyre was little more than a bed of coals, only I remained, staring at the cherry red glow of what remained of my love.

“I will always remember you, _______. Not only as the Herald of Andraste, or the Inquisitor, but as ______.” My voice cracked, and I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, looking up from the coals into the sky. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just, my love. In your blood, the Maker’s will is written.”

________________________________________________________________

It took me weeks to bring up the courage to enter the Inquisitor’s chambers. Cassandra and Leliana had both come to me, telling me that I should sort through some of the Inquisitor’s personal effects, since no doubt, some held meaning for both of us. But here I stand, now, within a room that once meant sanctuary to me, from the harsh realities outside. Now, it was the most painful reminder of it.

The bed is perfectly made, assembled after the Inquisitor and I had messed it on their last night before the battle. We had no way of knowing that Corypheus was to make his move the next day, but we knew that days were ticking away and took pleasure in each other’s company when we could. They were already up before I had awakened, as they typically were, so I took the initiative to make the bed for the next evening. No one has touched it since.

On the desk are notes and letters from all across Thedas, scout reports from Leliana, letters from Josephine that require the Inquisitor’s signet, and of course, troop updates that I had left there before we had engaged in the night’s festivities. I rifle through some of it, though I know none of it is important to me. Until… underneath a few papers, I find a box, a box that looks far too familiar to me. I lift it from the surface, heading to the couch to sit. I place the box in my lap and run my fingers along its’ sides, before opening. I regret it almost instantly.

“Why do you have Lyrium…?” I ask an empty room, as if the Inquisitor would pop up and provide a logical answer. Of course, a foolish wish, I am alone. Almost by instinct, I assemble the draught, and only catch myself as I’m about to drink it. It has been such a long time since I drank from the power of Lyrium, and paid the price.

Could they have kept it here on purpose? For me? Perhaps they intended me to find it, if they ever fell in battle? Maybe they knew that I would need it… maybe they wanted me to have it? I don’t know, it seems far-fetched, for them to have Lyrium.

Memories assault my mind, everything bad, dating as far back as the Circle in Ferelden, to the sight of my love, draped across Iron Bull’s arms. The pain is skull-shattering, and gut-wrenching all at once. I slide the box to the side as I rush out onto the balcony, emptying my lunch over the railing and into the valley far below. I feel exhausted, defeated and overall, lost.

“Why else would you have Lyrium, if not for me? Of course, if you came home safe, you would dispose of it, or hand it off others who can make use of it. But if you didn’t… of course you left it for me to regain my purpose.” I look up, out over the valley and at the mountains, and I swear, I can feel the Inquisitor right behind me, reassuring hand placed at the small of my back, as if to say ‘yes, of course, you have it right’.

I turn back to the couch, to the prepared philter. Yes, this is what they left for me, what they would have wanted me to do if they fell. They would want me to give my best to the Inquisition. I walk back to the couch, pick up the philter, and knock it back, the vile drink slithering its’ way down my throat. As soon as I swallow, I can feel old abilities returning to me like an old friend. Yes, the Inquisition will have me at my best, as my Inquisitor would have wanted.


End file.
